


Overconfidence and Scientific Misfires

by entomology



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Canon Disabled Character, Disability, Disabled Character, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Protective Siblings, i just have a soft spot for siblings cause i am one, i love projecting so much., thanks yh, this is entirely platonic please dont be weird im begging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entomology/pseuds/entomology
Summary: We all know Floofty's leg disappears as it de-snackifies since they cut it off. Here's my take on what happens!i wanted to write about Snorpy and Floofty's relationship postgame with some references to when they were younger, so this is a lot of that. sad worried sibling hours
Comments: 11
Kudos: 82





	Overconfidence and Scientific Misfires

**Author's Note:**

> i had a lotta fun writing this since a lot of it is projecting as i'm also disabled with a permanent leg injury. i know how it feels!! so.. sorry, flooft. i know how much that sucks. i fell off my bed too, after a big surgery.
> 
> general notes:  
> \- Snorpy is schizophrenic.  
> \- Floofty is autistic (both are, but floofty shows it more/it's referenced more here)  
> (this fic references both things a couple times so this is mostly for context)
> 
> sorry if my writing style is weird but enjoy!

Floofty blinks, eyes sticky and heavy in the morning sunlight filtering through their window.  
It’s been a few weeks since they’ve returned home from the whole.. Snaktooth disaster. They’re taking their time settling back into their small apartment. They’ve applied at a college, and they’re waiting to hear back. The decision to go into teaching was one they weighed for a long time, but eventually, with encouragement from their brother and friends, they sprung on the opportunity. What better way to learn to understand other grumpuses than to simply surround themself with them?

But today, as they blink off sleep, something is wrong. A jolt of pain spikes through their thigh, and they immediately sit up as if they’ve been shocked.  
They clumsily feel around for their goggles on the bedside table (prescription, of course, they’re practically blind without them), pulling them on. It’s a little bit of a hassle. They could absolutely just wear glasses, like Snorpy, but that’s not as fun. Goggles are cool looking and keep chemicals out of their eyes.  
They pull back the blankets, looking down at what in the world could hurt so bad, and- oh.  
Their leg has disappeared.  
…. So, the snackification must’ve worn off. They knew this would happen eventually, but weren’t quite sure what would happen when it did.  
Blood- or possibly strawberry juice, it’s really hard to tell the difference (is there a difference, when the limb is snackified? If only they could study that further)- stains the sheets below them in dark red smudges, with the rotten remaining scraps of the snackified limb littering the bed. It smells like mold.   
Gross.

Alright, alright, they should probably.. Do something about this. It hurts, _a lot,_ like when they first lost it, because they’ve essentially just lost their leg again. They try to ignore it, just like they did the first time, but the pain is dizzying.  
They try to get off the bed with their good (remaining) leg, using the side table as a support, but with how dizzy they are, it doesn’t work how they’d like- they end up falling to the floor with a strained, muffled whimper.  
Great, great, okay. Not on the bed anymore. Can’t get back up, but there’s no need for crying. Of course it hurts, but crying is nonsensical and doesn’t help anything. They bite their arm in some attempt to steel themself as they look around.  
Aha! Phone. They forgot they’d dropped it at some point when they weren’t paying attention after a long day studying, and hadn’t yet picked it up. They manage to reach it and open their texts.

To: Snorpington

Floofty: Come over today. I need your help with something.  
Snorpington: What is it.

They bite their lip. They have a lot of pride, and admitting they need help up is not their favorite thing.  
They’ll lie. Part of them just doesn’t want him to have any record that they required his help righting themself.

Floofty: I applied for a job. I need your help gathering references.  
Snorpington: Oh! Alright. When should I come?  
Floofty: Now.  
Snorpington: …. You couldn’t ask me in advance?  
Floofty: No time.  
Snorpington: Fine. You owe me, though.

They set down the phone, sighing in relief.  
It’s been.. nice, rekindling their friendship with their brother. They wouldn’t admit it, but they missed him greatly. They’re both still a little mean to each other, as most siblings are, but now it has more of a silly, joking tone- no real venom.  
The fact that he’s willing to come help them on short notice makes them.. happy. It’s sort of like when they were kids.

After a while, there’s a knock on their door. They text him to let himself in. They know he has a key. They gave him one, just in case. He probably would’ve gotten one somehow even if they didn’t, though. He does weird stuff like that.  
He texts back something exasperated about why they can’t open the door, but they hear the door click open anyways.

“Floofty? Where are you?”  
“Here.”  
The walls are thin and the apartment is small, they hardly have to shout for him to hear them.

After a moment of footsteps, their door opens, and Snorpy looks down at his sibling who is in a jumbled heap on the floor. Their tail covers the mess of their leg, but that doesn’t really hide the streaks of blood on the bed.  
His eyes are alight with panic, and he quickly stumbles over next to them.  
They look up.  
“Hello, Snorpington.”  
Their calm tone does nothing to settle his nerves. He can see right through them, and their voice is strained with pain.  
“What happened?? Are you bleeding?”  
Floofty wants to say they’re fine, but that would be a lie and would ultimately get them nowhere at this point. They sigh, shifting their tail out of the way.  
Their leg is.. gone. Just not there anymore. Blood matts their fur, and there’s a wound where the snackified part of the limb once was. That.. would explain the stains.  
“I didn’t want to startle you.”  
“You didn’t want to _startle me??_ Floofty, what happened to your leg?”

They huff.  
This is why they didn’t tell him. Because he gets all worried like this.  
“It.. was back on Snaktooth. I had the journalist snackify it, and then I cut it off, and ate it. I was simply testing what would happen, or if it would stay strabby, but it just turned back into leg.”  
They shrug.  
“We were able to restore the leg when i ate another bugsnak, so it was fine, for the time being. I wasn’t concerned.”  
He freezes, pale. It takes him a moment to get his words out.  
“Is-- is that why you thought cutting off your head would work?”  
They nod.  
“Precisely. I was able to regrow my leg just fine.”

He raises a shaky paw to his mouth, tears beading up in his eyes as he looks down at their missing, bleeding limb. That…. Could’ve been their head. That- That’s-  
“Floofty, if i hadn’t stopped you- you would be dead!”  
They stare at him blankly for a moment, then nod.  
“I suppose so. Thank you.”  
He shakes his head, visibly distressed.  
“That- that’s not the point! This is- i- i could’ve lost you, don’t you get that?”  
He’s shaking, tears wetting his cheek fur, and he pulls them into a tight hug, too beside himself to process the pained noise they make as he rests his chin on his older sibling’s shoulder.  
“What am i supposed to do without you?”

They look down at his shaking arms around them.  
There’s a strong feeling of deja vu, or nostalgia, as they wrap theirs back around him. They’ve done this so many times, when he was much younger- as a young child skinning his knee, or a scared awkward preteen bullied on the playground, or a freshly psychotic teenager at the peak of his delusions, but never because he was afraid for _them._ He’s their little brother. They’ve always been the one to protect him, to reassure him, to act as a role model- no matter how strained their relationship got, or how much they fought, they kept him safe. And now he’s crying, because they could’ve died and left him on his own.  
Their chest hurts a little. They try to blink back the water in their eyes before it can spill.  
“.... I’m sorry, Snorpy.”  
It’s rare they use his nickname. They’ve a very proper, eloquent grumpus. Clinical speaking is their biggest symptom. But right now, a nickname feels more gentle, and they know enough about him that they know he probably needs that. They hold him closer.

Snorpy squeezes them, just a little too tight, the same way he did all those years ago. It takes a few moments for him to gather himself enough to pull back a little. The tears aren’t completely quelled, but slower, and he has to remind himself of the more pressing matter at hand. As scary as this all is, Floofty is alive, but they’re hurt, and they need his help.  
He wipes his eyes. He almost looks small to them, but in reality he’s much bigger than they are. That’s younger siblings for you.  
“Do you think you can get up if i help? Should i call an ambulance?”  
They shake their head.  
“There’s no need to call anyone. I’m certain I can fix myself, I just need to get to my supplies.”  
He laughs a little through his tears. Floofty is so smart that it makes them stupid. They’re incredibly stubborn and he’s so overwhelmed but it’s so absurd and funny in this fucked up situation.  
“Okay. We go up on three.”  
They nod. Snorpy counts, and on three, he hoists them up.  
They make some awful strained wheezing sound, their leg shaking a little with the strain, and they lean on Snorpy for more support.  
He leans down and loops his arm under both of theirs. He’s practically carrying them, but it’s fine. He remembers where they keep their stuff, slowly and carefully helping them across the floor.  
They keep tripping and stumbling every few steps. Snorpy always catches them. Eventually, they’ve stumbled their way over to their supplies, where they have a handy emergency kit should they ever do something stupid like cut their hand, or any other number of dumb mistakes a scientist can make.

“Do you need help?”  
“No.”  
They try to clean the area, but their hand shakes and they wince. Snorpy takes the disinfectant-soaked rag from them and begins to wordlessly clean it himself. It reminds him a little of when they used to clean his skinned knees, but.. more dire. They don’t say anything. They’re probably embarrassed.  
Floofty had fixed up their leg the first time with very clumsy stitches, but since the strabby leg had grown from the same place, their body had kinda.. Fused with it, like naturally regrowing their limb, so that work was undone and the wound is now reopened with the loss of that extension.  
They reach for the supplies to do that again. Snorpy looks at them like they’re insane. They shrug and start to do it anyways, and he has to look away so he doesn’t vomit.  
It comes out…. fine. The stitches are really messy given how dizzy Floofty is right now, but they’ll hold, and that’s what’s important.

“I want to say i’m very impressed with how.. stoic.. you are about giving yourself stitches, but that was pretty disgusting.”  
“Thank you.”  
Dear lord that hurt. They try to ignore the sharp sting and look around, frowning.  
“That ship I stayed in had a lot of corpses around. I just stole one of their peg-legs.”  
Snorpy looks like he’s going to retch again.  
“I’m not sure where i’ll get another one. Do chain stores carry pirate legs?”  
He blinks, then shakes his head in exasperation.  
“No, Floofty, no store still carries peg legs. You’ll need a prosthetic, but-”  
“Hm?”  
“But i don’t trust those big name retailers. What if they try to use some sort of tracking device, or radio waves-”  
His expression is dark and suspicious, and they recognize that this is tied to his persecutory delusions. Right.  
“So, what do you suggest?”  
He thinks for a moment, then smiles.  
“I could probably make you one.”  
They smile back now, paws knit together in interest.  
“Have you made body parts before?”  
“Well, no, but i’m sure i can. I’ve made tons of other things. This doesn’t sound like too much of a stretch.”  
It could be sort of nice to work together on something again. If he wants to do it, they’re willing to see what he can do.  
They’re a little touched. They don’t say that out loud.  
“Alright. I think I'll take you up on that.”  
Snorpy looks triumphant.  
“Excellent. I’ll ask Chandlo to bring me my things.”  
He starts to text his boyfriend. Floofty is very reluctant to let another grumpus see them in this state, but Chandlo is _alright._ A little dumb, but very nice. They don’t hate him.  
With the text sent, Snorpy looks up, scrunching his eyebrows as he remembers something they said.  
“Did you say you ate your leg?”


End file.
